Whichever god conceived the idea that adversity is a stepping stone towards greatness is a clever one. In a single idea, there is so much to cling to. The privileged can sing these sweet words to those with less, pretending that their own adversity was comparable and essential to their success. The poor and disenfranchised find a soft pillow to lay their heads on in the face of trauma. Yet, dangerously, the truly wicked find a place to hang their hats.
There is a type of person out there unlike any you've likely seen on television or in front of a camera. Plays and books rarely depict them. They are the self-righteous saboteurs, the people who, in the face of their own sins, misgivings, and wake of destruction, see the downfall of others and themselves as a test from god. They sit high, untroubled by their actions or misconceived perceptions of life, believing they are enlightened by their god. Any trial, they assume, cannot be their fault, for they are the blessed.
Adversity only seems to embolden their confidence. They proclaim, “See! The powers of the devil have been sent to destroy me. This is evidence of my godliness!” Adversity, they believe, shows that god has great plans for them, and that if they stand with confidence, they will become even more favored. Although some of their actions may be good, they are forever set in both their just and immoral behaviors. They may give to charity or help a friend move, but when their family needs money—and after all, their family is their priority—they have no problem skimming the books for the cash they need.
When confronted, they gaslight. They believe they have nothing to apologize for. When caught, they deny, asserting that lying is surely what god would want from a saint. For how can his saint change the world from behind bars? Enlightened by their own standards of universal morality, they epitomize the misuse of moral relativism.